Wrong Place Really Wrong Time
by Collegekid2006
Summary: It was after hours. No one was supposed to be there. So, why were they there. And, more importantly, where are they now?
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure Detective Lassiter won't mind?" Buzz asked, looking around nervously as he unlocked the precinct door and stepped inside.

"Of course not!" Shawn snorted, following closely behind. "I told you. I just forgot my Alf Pez dispenser this afternoon and I need it."

"Why do you need it?"

"Buzz." Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes as if the answer should be obvious to anyone. "It's an Alf Pez dispenser."

"Right."

Buzz continued inside the station, flicking on some lights as they passed the empty desks stacked with paper work that had been left for tomorrow.

"And you forgot it…on Detective Lassiter's desk?" He murmured doubtfully, glancing back at Shawn.

"_In_ his desk, actually…" Shawn corrected him, clearing his throat.

"How did it get in--"

Shawn waved the question off breezily.

"It's a long story, Buzz, involving totally unjust accusations, an irritable Irish cop, and perhaps one too many cherry Pez flying across the precinct into people's open mouths….namely, the open mouth of a certain irritable Irish cop."

Buzz blinked slowly, trying to process all the new information.

"Were you playing Pez basketball again?" He asked, finally interpreting the story.

"And I was winning, too…" Shawn sighed, nodding. "Until the basket stole the Pez dispenser and threatened to arrest me for assaulting an officer if I didn't stop."

Buzz rolled his eyes as they finally reached Detective Lassiter's desk.

"I told you he doesn't like Pez."

"_Everyone_ likes Pez!" Shawn insisted, absolutely refusing to believe such a thing was possible. "It's Pez!"

Buzz laughed, looking down at the desk in front of them.

"Uh…he keeps it locked." He told Shawn. "He doesn't like people going through his stuff."

Shawn grinned and pulled out a set of keys, letting them swing jauntily back and forth in front of Buzz's eyes.

"I know."

"You have a key to his desk?" Buzz gasped, horrified.

"Maybe…" Shawn shrugged nonchalantly, quickly finding the right one and inserting it into the center desk drawer. "Maybe the desk came with a spare key…and maybe Lassie thinks the spare is taped to the bottom of the photocopier…even though maybe someone accidentally replaced it with a key to a twenty year-old bike lock…"

He grinned as the drawer popped open. He quickly pulled it all the way out and glanced through the pristine piles of paper work and neatly organized collection of paper clips, all organized by size, of course.

"Don't touch anything." Buzz warned. "He'll know…he always knows."

But Shawn wasn't listening. He had already grabbed his Alf Pez dispenser, which had been flung carelessly to the back of the drawer.

Like it was discarded trash!

He brushed it off and lovingly dropped it back in his pocket.

"Okay…" he told Buzz, shutting the drawer and locking it again. "We can go."

He turned on his heel, ready to walk back through the precinct to the front door, but as he did a sound caught his ear.

It was faint…almost imperceptible…but it was definitely there…whatever it was…

He paused, his ears perking and his eyes narrowing as he strained to hear it again.

_What is that…?_

"What?" Buzz asked, watching him intently. "Are you getting a psychic vision?"

"No…" Shawn murmured, holding his hand up silence. "You can't hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It sounds like…a beeping…"

"I don't--" Buzz started to say, but never finished his thought. At that moment, the building was rocked by a deafening explosion. Shawn was thrown back in a hail of wood and brick as the floor beneath him was suddenly ripped open in a burst of flames, heat and smoke.

He hit Lassiter's desk, bashing the back of his head off the corner as he started to fall…

Fall…

Even through the excruciating pain ripping through his head, he was still aware of the falling…

In fact, it was all he was aware of…all he could think about…

The ringing in his ears was so loud he couldn't even hear his own cries, or Buzz's, and the pain surging through every inch of his body was so intense he couldn't focus on anything but the falling…

He could see the debris falling around him…furniture…bricks…wood…

Just before he hit the ground…just before he was plunged into the silent, painful black unconsciousness…he had one last thought.

_They don't know we're here…_

_They won't be looking for us…_

_They don't know we're here…_


	2. Chapter 2

Lassiter pulled up to the scene, stopping at the yellow tape the fire department had already set up. The perimeter was lined with fire trucks and police cruisers, all of which had their headlights aimed at the scene, illuminating the fallen building in a halo of smoky light against the black night sky.

"What the hell happened?" He murmured to himself, his eyes wide in disbelief as he surveyed the wreckage that only a few hours ago had been his workplace.

His sanctuary.

Now, it was a wasteland. The building had been completely leveled into an unrecognizable, nauseating pile of charred, filthy bricks.

He left his own headlights pointed at the scene when he spotted Chief Vick standing alongside the Fire Chief at the edge of the tape, both frantically directing the traffic of paramedics and firefighters. He quickly made his way over to them, but Vick had already seen him.

"It's going to be a long night, Detective." She sighed.

"Was there anyone in there?" Lassiter asked, ducking under the tape as he reached them.

The Fire Chief shook his head.

"We don't think so. We're looking and we have officers working on confirming the whereabouts of anyone who might have a reason to be in there…but so far, every cop has been accounted for as far as we can tell. They were all home in bed or on patrol. Now they're here or on patrol."

"What the hell happened?"

"We won't know for sure for a couple of hours." The Fire Chief told him. "Not until we get all the hot spots under control and start digging…but looking at it from out here, right now I can tell you someone knew what they were doing. The building collapsed in on itself perfectly. It wasn't an explosion…it was an implosion. A demolition. You just don't get a collapse like that by accident. Whoever did it knew the layout of the building…they knew where to set off the explosives to take out the supports, they knew how much to use of whatever they used…we might be looking for someone who works in construction or demolition."

"And someone who hates cops…" Lassiter murmured. "They probably have a record…probably arson…"

"This doesn't fit any M.O.'s for anything I've seen in the last few years." The Fire Chief shook his head. "At least, not from what I can tell out here. I won't know more until we start digging."

Before Lassiter could reply, Juliet came running up to them, looking pale in the headlight beams.

"Chief!" She gasped, shielding her eyes from the light. "We can't find Buzz!"

"McNab?" Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't on patrol tonight?"  
"No." Juliet shook her head, almost frantically. "And he didn't answer his radio or his cell when we called…but his wife answered their home phone. She said he left over an hour ago when he got a call from 'some psychic'…she thinks he was heading to the station. She assumed he had been called in on some case."

The Chief groaned, closing her eyes wearily.

"Did you tell her--?"  
Juliet nodded, not waiting for the question to be finished.  
"I had to ask if she was sure he was coming here. She hadn't heard about the explosion yet. She was sleeping...she's on her way over."

"Did you try Mr. Spencer?"

"He's not answering his phone, either."

"Is there any other psychic…?"

"Who would call Buzz in the middle of the night and ask to meet him at the station?" Juliet finished the question for her, already shaking her head. "No. No, way."

Vick nodded slowly, her jaw setting firmly.

"Then get a patrol over to Mr. Spencer's apartment and check it out." She ordered, turning back to the Fire Chief. "And we officially have a search and rescue on our hands until we confirm the whereabouts of an officer and a psychic."

The Fire Chief nodded.

"I'm on it."

"What the hell were they doing here?" Lassiter demanded. "Spencer's not on any cases."

"I don't know…" Vick sighed, staring resolutely at the rubble before them, as if she could see through the bricks and charred wood and locate the missing men if she just tried hard enough. "…but if the patrol doesn't find Mr. Spencer at his apartment, I sure as hell don't want to be the one to call Henry Spencer…"

* * *

He was choking.

Even before Buzz tried to open his eyes as he slowly regained consciousness…even before he became aware he was completely deaf in his left ear from the blast…he could feel himself choking.

The smoke and dust were in his lungs…in his mouth…and every breath he drew he coughed back out almost violently.

Finally, he managed to suppress the coughing long enough to slowly open his eyes. It didn't do him any good, however.

He couldn't see a thing in the pitch black.

He could feel himself being pinned against something hard and jagged…a broken board?…by the pile of debris that had collapsed on top of him, but he couldn't see any of it.

He couldn't move any of it.

He could feel the weight of it crushing his chest a little bit more with each breath he took, but he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He couldn't even lift his arm to brush the brick dust out of his eyes.

After only a few seconds of consciousness, his head was swimming again. His blurry, incoherent thoughts swirled around him like a morning mist…each of them snatched away from him almost as quickly as they came.

Somewhere…somewhere in the distant darkness…somewhere in his right ear…he could hear something overhead...something that sounded like a siren…

Or was it just the ringing in his left ear?

Was he just completely deaf?

"Shawn…" he groaned, trying to speak for the first time. His voice was nothing more than a hoarse, barely audible whisper. "Shawn…are you okay?"

He knew the psychic was somewhere in the dark…somewhere close by…

But he didn't answer.

"Shawn?"

Even as he slowly drifted back into unconsciousness, Buzz strained to hear something that told him Shawn was there…

A voice…

Breathing…

Movement…

But there wasn't anything except the distant sound of the sirens above them…

…Unless that was just the ringing in his ears…


	3. Chapter 3

Henry slowly came down the stairs as the persistent knocking on his front door only grew louder. He looked out the window, flipping on the back porch light so he could see who the hell was waking him up at this ungodly hour.

His heart stopped when he saw Karen Vick standing there.

He opened the door, and for a moment the two of them stared at each other silently through the screen.

"Can I come in?" Karen asked finally, her voice already hushed and sympathetic.

Henry shook his head, the hairs on the back of his neck already standing on end. For another agonizingly long moment, he didn't say anything. He didn't even ask why she was there.

He didn't have to.

He could see it in her eyes.

"No."

"Henry--"

"Karen." He spoke firmly, his eyes hardening. "Whatever you're about to say…don't. Just…don't."

"I have to. You know I have to."

Henry sighed, looking down at the porch floor instead of at her.

"Just tell me where he is."

"I don't know."

Henry looked back up at her curiously, his heart starting to pound again.

"What?"

"I don't know where Shawn is…not for sure." Karen pressed on quickly, trying to get the words out before they choked her up. "There was an explosion downtown earlier tonight…the SBPD was leveled. We…have evidence that Shawn might have been inside at the time."

Henry blinked slowly, the words settling in even though he tried to stop them…tried to reject them.

"What the hell was he doing at the SBPD?"

"I don't know…he wasn't supposed to be there. And I don't know for sure he was yet…but we can't find him. He's not answering his phone, a patrol unit checked his apartment…we have to assume he was in there, Henry. We've already started search and rescue. They have a dog coming in…"

Henry nodded stiffly, pushing the door open with his foot and stepping out onto to porch.

"You don't have to come downtown." Karen told him. "There's nothing you can do right now...and if they do find him…you won't want to see it, Henry. You won't want to be there. I'll call you as soon as we know--"

Henry cut her off with a sharp glare.

"Don't tell me what I have to do, Karen. Don't tell me what I want."

"I'm not--"

"My son is probably buried under some building and you're telling me there's not a damn thing I can do about it? Don't you dare tell me that, Karen. Not you. Don't tell me you'll call me when you know something. That's not good enough and you damn well know it!"

"But it's the truth, Henry." She replied quietly. "There's nothing you can do. We're doing everything we can."

"I can be there." Henry snapped, pushing past her and making his way to his truck. "I can sure as hell be there."

* * *

Buzz couldn't be sure how long he was out…one minute…five hours…but it wasn't long enough to make the pain go away.

And it wasn't long enough to make the ringing in his left ear stop.

As he came to this time, he could hear the faint sound of someone groaning close by. He peered into the darkness, wanting nothing more than to see another face…something that told him he wasn't alone…

But he still couldn't see a damn thing

"Shawn?" He whispered, his voice hoarse.

He hadn't noticed until that moment, but his throat was dry and scratchy.

In fact, in that moment, even more than he wanted the pain to go away…he wanted something to drink.

Anything…

"Yeah." Shawn replied, his voice sounding equally faint.

"You okay?"

"I think I was impaled by my Pez dispenser."

Buzz tried to laugh, but the increasing pressure of the weight on his chest stopped him from getting too far with that effort.

"I thought I heard sirens…" Buzz whispered, taking as deep a breath as he could so he could get all the words out in one shot. "Before. They're coming for us."

"Yeah…" Shawn agreed quietly. "I know."

Even in the dark, there was something in Shawn's voice that told Buzz he didn't really believe it.

"They know where we are, don't they?"

"Yeah, Buzz…they know."

Buzz nodded, even though he knew Shawn couldn't see him.

He groaned with the movement, his head suddenly starting to throb again.

"Don't move." Shawn told him. "Try not to…unless you think you can get some of the debris off you."

"I won't."

"Try to stay awake, too. If you pass out you won't hear when they're getting close. And if you have a concussion…"

"I know. I won't. I'll stay awake."

"Good."

Buzz sighed, for some reason he couldn't explain suddenly feeling somewhat better.

Somehow, just knowing he wasn't alone…even if he couldn't see Shawn…made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

"I'm glad you're here." He said quietly.

In the darkness, Shawn didn't answer.

"No offense, Buzz." He murmured back finally, the last part of the sentence cut off by a gasp for air. "But I wish you weren't here."


	4. Chapter 4

It took them twenty-seven minutes to get a rescue dog on the scene.

Twenty-seven.

Not that Detective Lassiter was counting…

And it's not like he noticed the three firemen who had been standing at the edge of the yellow tape for eighteen minutes now, staring at the same damn floor plan of the SBPD.

_Eighteen minutes…_

_Eighteen damn minutes that an officer has been trapped underground…_

_…with a pain-in-the-ass psychic…_

_Eighteen minutes that they could have picked up a damn shovel and done something actually useful…_

He glared at them, as if they would somehow be able to sense his thoughts and would immediately spring into action.

Of course, they didn't.

He was about to go with a more direct approach when he spotted a woman in the small crowd of on-lookers and photographers that had assembled around the perimeter. She was standing near the back, pulling an old denim jacket tightly around her as the lights from the fire trucks reflected off her anxious, rosy face and disheveled, shoulder-length brown hair.

Anyone could see she wasn't a rubber-necker, and she wasn't a reporter.

Even in the near-complete dark, he immediately recognized her from the picture McNab always carried in his wallet and was always showing anyone who had the patience to look and listen.

It was his wife.

When she saw Lassiter glance her way, she quickly beckoned to him. He was halfway through the crowd before he finally remembered her name.

_Francie…I think..._

"You're Detective Lassiter, right?" She asked when he reached her, not giving him a chance to answer before pushing on. "I remember you from the Christmas party last year…and Buzz talks about you all the time. You're like…his hero."

Lassiter looked down at his shoes, for a moment not responding.

Her voice had been calm and even…but there was a strained edge he could already hear creeping into it even in those few words.

He had seen enough of these situations to know she was barely clinging on. It was probably taking every last bit of strength she had to even be standing up.

"He always gets my coffee right." He said finally, looking back up at her. "Well…most of the time."

She smiled palely and nodded, releasing the jacket with one hand long enough to push a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. The moment the task was complete, however, she immediately started to cling to the jacket again.

"Do they know anything?" She asked, her voice quieter now as she stared at the wreckage. "I can't get anyone to tell me anything."

"No." Lassiter shook his head. "There;s a rescue dog on the scene...but until we get a location, we can't start digging. There's the risk of shifting the entire--"

He stopped himself from completing the sentence when he saw her turn another shade of white.

"They don't know anything." He amended.

She nodded stiffly, her eyes still wide as they watched the painfully slow progress.

"Are you sure--?" He began to ask, but she cut him off before he could complete the question.

"He got a call from that psychic."

"Spencer?"

"Yeah…him. He said he was meeting him at the station. He's in there…I know he is."

"Did he say why Spencer wanted to meet him here? Was it about a case?"

"I don't…" She couldn't get the last word out. Her jaw started to tremble and she had to clamp it shut quickly before she started to cry.

He looked away, back at the scene in front of him.

He couldn't look at her.

The firemen he had noticed before were still around, staring at the same damn floor plan.

_It's been twenty-nine minutes now…_

_Twenty-nine…_

He looked back at the wreckage of the building, watching the other firemen carefully walking over the rubble…

..walking right on top of Spencer and McNab…

_Damn it!_

_Do something! _

_There's a cop in there!_

_And a pain in the ass psychic!_

He tried to picture the station before the explosion…tried to figure out where the firemen were standing…

_That's where my desk used to be…_

_My desk…_

_My papers…_

_My stapler…_

_My mug…_

"My damn coffee mug was in there." He murmured quietly to himself as the realization dawned on him.

Francie looked up at him, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Is that really what you're thinking about?" She demanded bitterly.

He shook his head slowly, staring vacantly at the rubble.

"No. But I sure as hell wish it was." 


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't breathe, Shawn…" Buzz groaned, trying for the hundredth time to push some of the heavy debris off his chest.

He had managed to work one of his arms free and had pushed some of the smaller bricks and pieces of wood away, but he was still buried under some great, crushing weight he just couldn't get rid of.

Every breath he took constricted his chest a little more.

He still couldn't see Shawn in the dark, but he rolled his head to the side and stared in the direction his voice had been coming from earlier, anyway.

Somehow, just knowing someone else was there was enough…

For a long moment, Shawn didn't answer him.

In fact, Buzz suddenly realized it had been at least several minutes since Shawn had said anything at all.

_How long…?_

_…An hour…?_

_…Two hours…?_

_…30 seconds…?_

_…No…_

_…It's definitely been longer than 30 seconds…_

"Shawn…" he whispered again, his heart starting to race just a little bit faster.

Finally, Shawn responded.

His voice was faint and hollow-sounding…almost ethereal.

Like he wasn't really there.

"I know, Buzz…you can't breathe…try…"

"I'm trying."

Buzz groaned as he was overcome by another wave of dizziness and nausea. He couldn't be sure if it was from the dust or the fact that his throat was so dry it was burning him alive from the inside out.

Or maybe it was because he couldn't breathe under all that weight…

"I can't breathe…"

"I have two coins…" Shawn murmured a moment later. "They add up to thirty cents. One's not a nickel. What are they?"

Buzz stopped groaning.

Suddenly, he forgot about the weight on his chest or the fact that he couldn't breathe.

For just one moment, he forgot about everything else.

"What?" He gasped.

"Buzz…" Shawn groaned. "My head…I can't say it again…"

"One's not a nickel?"

"…No…"

Buzz closed his eyes again, straining to think. His head was swimming in a paralyzing sea of pain.

All he could think about was the pain…

_…One's not a nickel…_

_…How could one not be a nickel…?_

_…One has to be a nickel…right…?_

_…It's a trick…_

"I don't know." He moaned finally.

"Think about it."

"I can't think…can't breathe…"

"Stay awake, Buzz…" Shawn urged quietly, his voice fading out near the end. "I can't…you have to…one's not a nickel…"

Shawn never finished the thought. His words trailed off, snatched from his throat like a last hope.

Buzz slowly opened his eyes again, staring up at the infinite black above him in horror.

_He's gone..._

_...I have to stay awake..._

_...One's not a nickel..._

"Shawn…?" He murmured, hoping...praying...his friend would respond.

But Shawn never answered.


	6. Chapter 6

Henry didn't hear anything.

Not a single sound.

He didn't hear the yelling of the firemen and rescue workers combing over the wreckage of the SBPD, searching for any sign his son was alive.

He didn't hear the hum of the crowd behind him, wondering what was going on…wondering who was trapped underneath…wondering if they were still alive…

He couldn't even hear the pounding of his own heart.

All he could hear was his own memories.

_Twenty years…_

_I spent twenty years here…_

_And now it's gone…_

He stared blankly at the empty space that had absorbed so much of his life, trying desperately to think about anything but the fact that Shawn was somewhere under there.

Trying not to remember the fact that he was the one who wanted Shawn to work there…to follow in his footsteps…

But he couldn't escape the thoughts.

All his memories of the old precinct somehow revolved around his son.

_It's where I met Mad…_

_It's the first place we brought him when we took him home from the hospital…Captain Connors gave him a badge…_

_I spent twenty years of my life here…_

_…Shawn grew up here…_

His jaw set as he tried to forget one of the last times he had been in the SBPD…

When Karen had asked him to come in to talk about Shawn…

He tried to forget, but the words were ringing in his ears so loudly that all the other sounds of the chaotic world were drowned out.

_"Henry…he's claiming to be psychic…is it true? Is he?"_

_"Yes."_

That yes echoed accusingly off the walls of his mind.

_If I had just said no…_

_If I had just told the truth…_

_Why the hell didn't I just say no…?_

He blinked, for a brief moment managing to shut the sickening sight of the collapsed building out of his mind.

But only for a moment…

"Henry." A single voice cut through his raging thoughts, snapping him back into reality.

Suddenly, he could hear again…

The sirens…

The yelling…

The braying of the search dog…

He could hear it all.

"What?" He blinked, looking at Detective Lassiter.

"They have a location." Lassiter said quietly. "They think they know where they are. They're starting to dig. It won't be long now."

Henry nodded stiffly, his eyes drifting over the scene of scurrying firemen.

"What the hell was he doing here?" Lassiter asked a moment later, turning so he was standing next to Henry, watching the scene before them.

"Hell if I know." Henry muttered. "Did he have a case?"

"No…" Lassiter shook his head thoughtfully. "He didn't."

"Well, why the hell else would he be here?"

"I don't know."

For a moment, they stood silently.

"He didn't have a case…" Lassiter murmured. "But that doesn't mean he wasn't sticking his damn nose into one of mine…"

Henry glanced over at him, raising a single eyebrow.

"What?"

Lassiter pressed on quickly, the words coming out almost faster than Henry could process them.

"Why else would he call McNab and drag him over here? He must have been looking for something inside…something about a case…he probably had one of his damn psychic visions...there was something in there…something he was trying to get…"

"Are you sure?"

"No." Lassiter shrugged. "But it makes as much sense as anything else I can come up with."

Henry didn't reply.

He just continued to stare blankly at the pile of rubble that stood between him and son.

Somehow, he knew none of it would ever make sense.

Not really.

_If I just said no…_

* * *

_One's not a nickel…_

_But it has to be a nickel…_

_One has to be a nickel…_

Buzz groaned. His head was still pounding, and now it wasn't just because of the fall.

He just couldn't figure out the damn riddle.

He could feel himself starting to black out, but he somehow managed to always catch himself at the last second with that same nagging thought.

_One's not a nicked…One's not a nickel…_

"Shawn…" he groaned, his chest constricting even more as he drew what he was suddenly certain would be one of his last breaths. "Is one a nickel…? One has to be a nickel, right…?"

He paused, waiting to hear Shawn reply…

But there was nothing but silence.

"Shawn…I can't…I'm trying…I can't…"

He could feel himself slowly slipping away, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it this time.

Even thoughts of nickels weren't enough this time.

"Shawn…I'm sorry…I can't…"


	7. Chapter 7

_Mere Hours Ago…_

"Two points!" Shawn grinned as the cherry Pez bounced off Detective Lassiter's head and fell to the floor.

"That wasn't two points!" Gus protested, snatching the Alf dispenser out of his friend's hand. "You didn't get it in his mouth!"

Lassiter whirled around in his chair, glaring across the precinct at them.

"Knock it off!" He growled, covering the mouthpiece of his phone, then turned back to his call. "What the hell do you mean there wasn't enough in the car to support a possession with intent charge? I was here when they busted him! There was more than enough!"

"My turn." Gus grinned, pushing Alf's head back and pulling out the small, pink tablet. He closed one eye, carefully aiming for Lassiter's mouth. Just as he was about to release it, however, Shawn suddenly coughed loudly. Gus was only momentarily distracted by the sound, but it was enough to send the Pez flying off in the opposite direction as Lassiter's desk, landing with a _ping_ in a metal trash can on the other side of the precinct.

"Dude…" Shawn grinned, clapping his friend on the back. "That sucks."

"That's cheating!" Gus shouted. "We called no coughing and no kicking!"

"Take it up with the judges." Shawn shrugged, grabbing the Pez dispenser back and preparing for his turn. "I'm still up…two-zip."

At his desk, Lassiter had slammed down the phone. He was looking around the precinct angrily now, undoubtedly about to unleash his wrath on the closest victim.

"Davis!" He shouted a young officer who happened to be walking by. "Who the hell brought in the Murphy kid the other night?"

"Murphy?" Davis stammered, looking at the detective with wide eyes, clearly too terrified to form a coherent thought. "I don't--"

"Murphy!" Lassiter shouted. "The kid they busted with about two ounces of pot in his car! Who pulled him over?"

"Uh…"

"Just get me the damn arrest report!" Lassiter snapped, turning away before Davis could answer.

"Watch this, Gus…" Shawn murmured, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he prepared to launch the Pez. "Right…in…the…mouth…"

He tossed it across the precinct under-handed. It floated through the air in a wide, lazy arc, landing perfectly in Lassiter open mouth as he picked up the phone once again.

"Damn it, Spencer!" He shouted, spitting the candy out in disgust as he slammed the phone down. "I told you to knock it off!"

He was already storming across the precinct, lining the psychic up in his sites.

"That was Gus." Shawn lied quickly, tossing the dispenser at his friend.

"It was not!" Gus argued, catching it with one hand and throwing it back. "That was you!"

"I don't care who it was!" Lassiter growled, snatching Alf out of mid-air before Shawn had a chance to touch it. "It's mine now!"

He spun on his heel and marched back to his desk, opening the center drawer and tossing the dispenser inside.

"Dude…" Shawn snorted, turning to Gus. "Did he just steal my Pez?"

"Yeah." Gus nodded.

"Can he do that?"

"Legally or morally?"

"Both."

"Apparently."

Davis was back at Lassiter's desk now, clutching a file in his white knuckles.

"Uh…here's the arrest report you wanted, Sir." He stammered.

Lassiter grabbed it, but before he could open it, he was struck in the head by a small marble.

"Damn it, Spencer!" He snapped, throwing the file into the center desk drawer alongside the Pez dispenser and slamming it shut before turning back to Shawn and Gus. "You're not even working on a case! Get the hell out!"

"You can't kick us out!" Shawn snorted, dropping several marbles back into his pocket before Lassiter could take them, too. "We're on the police payroll."

Lassiter stood up, marching across the precinct and grabbing Shawn by the collar.

"If you're not working on a case, you're not on the police payroll." He informed him. "Just go away! Some of us have actual work to do!"

"Okay. Okay." Shawn agreed, casually brushing off his shirt. "I can tell when I'm not wanted."

"The hell you can." Lassiter grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Let's go, Shawn." Gus stepped in, glancing at his watch. "I have to go to the office, anyway. If we don't have a case, I need to get caught up on paperwork."

"Fine." Shawn sighed, following his friend out of the precinct.

"Dude…" Shawn asked once they were outside, his eyes glinting mischievously. "How are we going to get Alf back?"

"We're not." Gus informed him, getting into the Echo. "I was serious, Shawn. I have to get caught up on work. Especially if we're not going to have any cases for a while."

"You're just going to let Lassie win?" Shawn gasped, horrified.

"I guess so." Gus shrugged. "I'll see you later, Shawn."

He pulled away from the curb, watching his best friend get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until he turned a corner.

Then he couldn't see Shawn any more.

* * *

The memories flooded Gus' mind as he clutched the steering wheel.

The image was burned into his memory…Shawn in the rearview mirror…getting smaller…fading from view until he finally turned that corner…

_That was the last time I saw him…_

_It can't be the last time…_

_Not when everything was fine ten minutes ago…_

_Damn it, how could everything change in ten minutes?_

He could still hear the echoing of the phone ringing, jarring him out of the first decent night's sleep he'd gotten in months.

At first, he almost hadn't answered.

But something made him pick up.

_Something…_

"Hello?" He had grunted, still so groggy he couldn't be completely sure he had actually spoken the words.

"Gus." A gruff voice on the other end had snapped at him. "What the hell was Shawn doing messing around at the SBPD?"

He sat up, instantly recognizing the voice.

"Mr. Spencer? What are you--?"

But Henry wasn't about to let him finish a complete sentence.

"Just tell me!" He snapped. "What the hell was Shawn doing at the SBPD?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Gus insisted, suddenly wide-awake. "…and what do you mean _was_?"

For a long moment, Henry didn't answer.

When he finally didn't respond, his voice was quiet.

"It's gone, Gus…the whole station. Someone blew it up. Shawn was inside. So tell me what the hell he was doing there!"

Gus dropped the phone.

For a minute, he just stared down at it, convinced it was lying to him.

Convinced it was all just some bad dream.

He couldn't have just heard what he thought he heard. It wasn't possible.

Finally, he picked it up again.

"Is he--?"

"It's still a search and rescue. They don't know anything yet."

Gus' heart started to beat again.

_There's still a chance…_

"I don't know what he was doing there." He said, already out of bed and running out the door. "But I'm on my way."

He didn't remember the Pez dispenser until he was halfway there.

_But that can't be it…_He told himself over and over again as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

_That can't be it…_

_That's not why he was there…_

_I'm not losing my best friend because of candy!_


	8. Chapter 8

"We've got them!"

The call went out over the radios, crackling through the static like a ray of light penetrating the otherwise complete darkness.

Henry's heart stopped as he heard it over one of the fireman's radios. Gus was standing beside him, so close that Henry could actually hear the breath catch in his chest as he heard the news, too.

"They—" Gus started to say as he turned to Henry, but Henry shook his head, cutting him off before he could complete the thought.

He didn't want to hear the words spoken aloud…

He couldn't bear to.

Not yet…

Not until he actually saw his son, alive and well.

Until then, the words were nothing but vapid, fleeting hope.

Words wouldn't save his son.

They wouldn't make everything okay.

He couldn't let himself hope…he couldn't let himself think anything but the worst case scenarios…

He had seen too many worse-case scenarios come to life before his eyes to believe anything else.

_If I hope and I'm wrong…_

_If I'm wrong…_

He couldn't even finish the thought, but he knew what the ending was.

If he dared to hope…nothing would ever pick up the pieces when he was wrong.

He couldn't let himself be knocked down by hope like that again…

_Not again…._

And yet…he couldn't shake the small, persistent seed of hope at the center of his being.

Somewhere deep inside him, he knew Shawn was alive…even if he wouldn't let himself hope it.

_If I'm wrong…nothing will ever make it right…_

The headlights from the fire truck illuminated the figure of several firemen in the distance, lifting something out of the rubble.

Something that in the darkness looked like a body…

"Is that…?" Gus started to ask, but once again a sharp look from Henry silenced him.

But he didn't have to answer.

Even in the dark, even from nearly fifty feet away, they knew it was a body.

And they both recognized tattered and torn blue plaid shirt that caught the headlight beams as the body was loaded onto a waiting stretcher and rushed towards an ambulance.

A moment later, a second body was dragged out of the debris.

"Buzz!" Gus gasped when he saw a glimpse of ashen face before he, too, was whisked away into a waiting ambulance.

Henry and Gus watched the ambulances take off with their sirens blaring.

Neither of them made a move to follow.

For a long moment, neither of them even breathed.

They didn't have to say what they were thinking, because they both knew they were thinking the same thing.

Neither of the bodies they had just seen dragged out of the rubble had been moving.

And neither had been breathing.

* * *

Lassiter watched the ambulances pull away.

O'Hara came alongside him, her eyes also fixed on the sight.

"They found them…" she whispered, her eyes wide as she tried to reassure herself. "They'll be okay now…"

"Yeah…" Lassiter murmured, opting not to tell the truth. "They'll be fine."

He glanced over at the yellow perimeter when he heard the familiar sound of someone retching their guts out.

He saw it all the time at scenes like this…some Rookie who couldn't handle it…

"What's Davis' problem?" He grunted, spying the young officer kneeling in the gravel, looking pale in the lights of the fire trucks as he ran his sleeve over his mouth.

"Buzz is his friend." Juliet replied simply. "He's never seen a friend…"

She couldn't complete the sentence, but she didn't have to.

"Then he's lucky." Lassiter muttered, spinning on his heel and marching back to his car.

O'Hara followed closely behind.

"Where are you going?" She asked. "To the hospital?"

"No." He shook his head, sliding behind the wheel.

"Why not?"

"Because…someone out there damn near got a cop killed tonight. And a pain in the ass psychic. And they blew up my damn coffee mug!"

"You can't hunt them down, Carlton." Juliet told him. "Not on your own. Not without any leads."

"We have a lead, O'Hara." Lassiter told her, shutting his door. She ran around to the other side of the car and jumped in before he could pull away.

"What lead?"

"Didn't you hear the Fire Chief?" Lassiter asked. "Whoever did it knew the layout of the building. They knew how to take it down. Whoever did it was a cop, O'Hara."


	9. Chapter 9

Henry wouldn't sit still.

From his chair, Gus followed the ex-cop with his eyes as he paced restlessly back and forth across the ER waiting room.

Occasionally, he would stop pacing long enough to take a seat in one of the small, cushioned chairs next to Gus, but only for second. Then, he would stand up and start right back up again.

Gus looked down at his watch for the fifth time in seven minutes.

_It's been over an hour…_

_He's been in surgery for an hour…_

_That can't be good…_

Finally, Henry's restless legs got to him, too. He stood up and silently joined his friend's father in the pacing. Their eyes would meet as they crossed at the center of the room, but neither of them spoke.

There wasn't anything to say.

Not yet…

The ER waiting room was completely empty except for them and Francie, who was sitting in the corner, her knees drawn up against her chest as she huddled in her chair, silently staring at the floor. If she knew Gus and Henry were in the room with her, she certainly didn't let on.

Finally, a surgeon came in, looking around at the six eyes that were firmly fixed on him. He ran his fingers over his blood-spattered scrubs, for a long moment not saying anything.

"What the hell is going on?" Henry demanded, clearly speaking for all of them.

"Officer McNab is still in surgery." The surgeon offered, looking at Francie. "He has a serious head injury and several of his ribs are broken. They punctured his lungs, causing one of them to collapse. He's stabilized for now…but I won't know anything more for a few hours."

Francie nodded stiffly, still not saying anything.

Gus watched the blood drain from her face, suddenly realizing that she was only hanging on by a thread.

"What about Shawn?" Henry asked.

The surgeon shook his head slowly.

"He received a serious blow to the head. There was a lot of pressure on his brain when they brought him in…we relieved it, but he was underground for a long time…"

"What does that mean?" Gus asked, his heart skipping a beat.

"It means he's still unconscious." The surgeon sighed. "So, we won't know for sure until he wakes up…but there could be permanent brain damage."

Henry's jaw clenched and his fists tightened as he pushed past the surgeon.

"Where is he?" He demanded.

"He's still unconscious." The surgeon reiterated, quickly following Henry.

"I don't give a damn!" Henry snapped. "Tell me where the hell my son is!"

The door to the ER slammed shut behind the two men.

Gus blinked, still trying to process everything. Francie was still sitting in her chair, staring at the floor.

"I told him no." She whispered, barely speaking out loud.

"What?" Gus asked, sitting in the chair next to her.

She looked up at him, as if realizing for the first time that he was there.

"Buzz. I told him no. The first time he asked me to marry him."

"Oh."

"I told him I couldn't do it. I told him I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life waiting for the phone call that he was shot dead in some alley. I couldn't do it…but he never took no for an answer. He just kept on asking. It took six months…but I finally gave in."

"Why? What made you change your mind?"

She smiled palely, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"It was harder to say no. It was harder trying to picture my life without him than it was to wait up every night, waiting for him to come home alive. I just couldn't picture my life without him…I still can't."

She paused, resting her chin on her knees wearily.

"I always knew I was going to end up here." She murmured. "It had to happen sometime. Buzz can't help it…he has to help people. That's why I couldn't marry him at first. I knew it would be too damn hard. I knew I couldn't handle it…sitting here, waiting to lose him…"

"You're not going to lose him." Gus assured her quietly, wishing he felt as confident as he was trying to sound.

"But if I do," she sighed, wiping a single tear away from her eyes. "I don't regret it. I'm not sorry I married him…I just want those six months back. I shouldn't have made him ask for six months."


	10. Chapter 10

"Turn here." Juliet ordered, pointing to the sharp right turn they were approaching.

Lassiter glanced over at her.

"Why?" He asked, making the turn before she answered.

"Because we're going to the hospital."

"No, we're not. I told you--"

"Carlton." She intoned, her suddenly determined eyes daring him to challenge her. "We're going. We can start the investigation after we see what's going on with Shawn and Buzz."

"But--"

"Carlton. They're our friends."

"Then shouldn't we be tracking whoever tried to blow them up?"

"We will. After."

"Fine." Lassiter grunted, taking the next left and pulling into the hospital parking lot.

They found Gus and Francie sitting side-by-side in the ER waiting room, both staring off into the distance.

Gus blinked when Juliet and Lassiter entered, as if coming out of a dream.

"Hey." Juliet said, quietly, taking the seat on the other side of Francie. "How are they doing?"

Gus watched Francie's face. He could tell she didn't want to talk about, didn't want to relive it.

"Buzz is still in surgery." He offered after a moment. "Shawn's still unconscious, but they got the pressure off his brain. Now we're just waiting…"

Juliet nodded.

"Waiting sucks."

"Yeah." Gus mumbled.

A nurse came in a moment later, carrying two small metal bowls with her. She spotted the group in the corner and walked over to them, handing one of the bowls to Francie.

"He's not out of surgery yet." She told her. "But the doctor wanted me to give this to you. It's everything he had in his pockets. We had to throw his clothes out…"

Francie nodded and took the bowl, looking down at the items in it blankly. There wasn't much in them…his badge, wallet and keys…

Her husband's entire life had just been reduced to his badge, wallet and keys.

"Is that Shawn's stuff?" Gus asked, gesturing at the other bowl.

The nurse nodded.

"Where's Mr. Spencer?"

"Probably making the doctors rethink the 'Fist do no harm' clause in the Hippocratic oath." Gus replied, taking the bowl from her. "I'll give it to him."

She nodded and went back into the ER.

Francie smiled palely to herself and reached into the bowl, pulling out a nickel that was clinging to the bottom.

"His lucky nickel." She murmured to herself.

"Lucky nickel?" Juliet repeated, looking at it. "What's a lucky nickel?"

Francie laughed, wiping her eyes one more time before answering.

"He got it as change the night I finally said I'd marry him…he said it had to be four times as lucky as lucky a penny, since it was four cents more."

"Uh…" Gus cleared his throat. "That would actually be five--"

"I know." She rolled her eyes, laughing. "But I didn't have the heart to tell him. His addition was right."

"O'Hara." Lassiter barked from the other side of the room. "We have an investigation to get started on."

She nodded, standing back up.

"We're working on it." She told them quietly. "We'll figure it out."

She looked at Gus.

"Call me when he wakes up."

"I will."

She glanced in the bowl Gus was holding, her brow furrowing as she spied something in it.

"What's that?" She asked, pulling out a charred, smashed piece of plastic that somewhat resembled Alf.

Gus' heart stopped when he saw it.

_No…_

_Damn it, Shawn! _

_No!_

_You weren't there to get your damn candy back!_

"Uh—" he stammered, but Lassiter had already seen it from across the room.

"Wait!" He snapped, coming over and snatching the object from Juliet's hand. "Is that the damn candy I took away from him this afternoon? It was in my desk! I never gave it--"

His eyes narrowed angrily.

"He was in my desk. I locked it! How the hell did he get into my desk?"

"You don't think he was there to--?" Juliet started to ask, but Lassiter was already shaking his head.

"Even Spencer's not that big a moron. If he was in my desk, he was looking for something else besides his stupid candy. He probably just grabbed it before he found whatever he was really after…but there wasn't anything else in there except…"

"Except what?" Juliet urged when he stopped, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

"I had a file." He mumbled, more to himself than out loud as his brain chugged away. "That Murphy kid. A drug bust. The DA called me about it this afternoon…I put the arrest report in my desk, but I never got to it. I was trying to close four other cases…It was the only thing in there besides paper clips."

"Was Shawn working on it?"

"No." Lassiter shook his head. "But since when does that stop him from butting in?"

"But why would he want to--?"

"I don't know." Lassiter cut her off, already walking out the door. "But I'm going to find out."  
"Where are we going?" Juliet asked, following him.

"If I'm up at 3 AM, the DA sure as hell can be." Lassiter snapped. "He has a copy of the arrest report."

Gus sighed and shook his head, watching them leave.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't tell them the truth…

That after twenty years of friendship, he knew Shawn better than anyone.

That he knew his best friend hadn't been working on a case.

That, after twenty years of friendship, he knew Shawn really was that big a moron.

Henry stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway of his son's hospital room.

Even in the dark, he could see Shawn in the bed, laying completely still, his head wrapped tighter than a mummy.

The surgeon was right behind him.

"I told you--" He started, but didn't get the thought out before Henry whirled around, glaring at him.

"I'm not leaving."  
"I'll call security."

Henry tossed him his cell phone.

"Call them." He snapped. "Because when my son wakes up, I'll either be right here or I 'll be sitting in a jail cell for breaking your security guard's nose. Your call."

Their eyes locked.

After a tense moment, the doctor tossed the cell phone back to him.

"You can stay."

"I know."


	11. Chapter 11

Shawn suddenly became aware of the excruciating pain.

Even through the black fog that enveloped him before he slowly forced his eyes open, he knew he was in pain.

He could hear himself moaning as what felt like a million volts ripped through every inch of his body, but he couldn't do anything to stop himself.

It just hurt too much.

Finally, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked slowly into the harsh lights that were now blinding him, trying to bring the room around him into focus. He could make out the blurry figure of someone standing over him, but he couldn't tell who it was until he heard their voice.

"Shawn."

He closed his eyes again, letting the single word fall over him like a blanket.

Even in the midst of his paralyzing agony, he almost had to laugh at the thought of his father's voice actually being comforting instead of grating and semi-frightening.

And yet…

He opened his eyes again, and this time the world was sharply in-focus, apart from a few lingering beads of moisture clinging to his eyelids, obscuring his view ever-so-slightly. His dad was standing over him, looking grave and just vaguely pissed-off. A moment later, Gus appeared from just outside the periphery of Shawn's limited vision, stepping alongside Henry, smiling dully down at his best friend.

For a long moment, none of them actually spoke.

There just didn't seem to be anything to say.

Finally, Shawn fought through the sandpaper stuck in his throat and managed to eek out a single syllable.

"Buzz…?"

Henry and Gus glanced at each other, their eyes conveying their concern in answering Shawn's question completely.

Finally, Gus cleared his throat, looking at the floor. "He's out of surgery…" he murmured softly. "But he's not awake yet."

Shawn blinked slowly, his brain chugging along sluggishly as he tried to process each individual word. It took him a good three minutes longer that it should have to fully untangle the single sentence.

"But he'll be okay?" he asked finally, feeling his throat burn with each uttered syllable. His eyes shifted between his father and his best friend, searching frantically for something…_anything_…to assure him that it was all going to be okay.

"They don't know." Henry told him quietly, meeting his gaze steadily. "They're waiting to see if he survives the night. I'm sorry, Kid."

Shawn closed his eyes, falling deeper into the pillow as every ounce of strength he had left his body. He felt something rest gently on his ankle and opened his eyes again.

"What the hell happened?" Henry asked, quickly moving his hand away from Shawn's foot when he saw his son watching him.

"I don't know," Shawn mumbled, letting his head fall to the side as if he was shaking it. "I can't remember."

"Why were you at the station?" Henry pressed on, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'd better get used to the question, Kid. The police are going to be asking you it. A lot."

Shawn gazed vacantly up at the ceiling, searching his brain for the answer. "I don't remember anything…"

Henry sighed, heading for the door. "I told the doctor I'd find him when you woke up," he said. "They won't catch the bastard who did it if you can't remember anything, Shawn. What's done is done. You can't change what happened. You can't make Buzz pull through now. But you can sure as hell help catch the bastard who blew him half to hell." He paused at the doorway, turning back around to look at Shawn, his eyes resting on the bandages that bound his son's bloody head. "He blew you half to hell, too, Kid," he murmured, finally looking away. "Don't forget that."

Shawn heard his footsteps echoing down the hall as he went to find the doctor.

Gus came closer to the bed, resting his hands on the guardrail. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly, smiling gently.

"Like I got hit with a building," Shawn groaned, putting a hand to aching head, just wanting the pain to stop for five seconds.

"You really don't remember why you were there?" Gus asked, his smile fading as he grew serious.

Shawn looked up at him, his eyes suddenly not blank or distant. They were focused and quietly determined. "No."

Gus nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, melted glob of plastic that somewhat resembled Alf. He put it on the pillow next to Shawn's head, not saying a word.

Shawn silently reached up and grabbed it. He held it in front of him, and Gus knew he recognized it.

He didn't have to tell Shawn he was an idiot.

He didn't have to tell him anything.

Shawn knew.


	12. Chapter 12

"All right, Lassiter," the DA growled, flipping on the lights to his office as Juliet and Lassiter followed him inside. "I have four open homicide trials, two armed robberies and a whole slew of car-jackings. Do you want to tell me why the hell I'm opening my office at four o'clock in the morning to get a file on some punk teenager who got pulled over with half an ounce of pot on him? What does it have to do with the SBPD bombing?"

"I don't know, Jensen." Lassiter told him honestly, leaning against the desk in the center of the room while Jensen rummaged through a stack of identical manila folders. "Probably nothing…except that file is the reason Spencer and McNab were at the station. It was the only thing in my desk Spencer could have been after. I want to know why he was poking around on a case he had nothing to do with. It might be a lead, it might not…but it's somewhere to start, at least."

Jensen handed him the file. "How are McNab and Spencer doing?" he asked quietly. "Any word yet?"

Lassiter shrugged stiffly, his eyes hardening as he flipped through the thin file, which only had a few pages in it. "Not yet. They just got buried under a damn building. It's not good."

Jensen nodded. "I'm sorry. When you catch the son of a bitch who did it, I'll charge him with whatever will stick. I promise. Just do it by the book so his lawyer can't get him off on a technicality."

Lassiter nodded blankly, not really listening as his brow furrowed in confusion over something in the file.

"What is it?" Juliet asked, walking over and looking over his shoulder at the reports.

"I don't know…" Lassiter murmured.

He thought for a moment, scrutinizing the forms carefully.

"Look at this, O'Hara," he said finally, hand them over to her. "Johnson made the bust on the Murphy kid. His name's on the report."

"So?" Juliet shrugged, reading it over quickly and handing it back to him. "He pulled him over for going through a stop sign and busted him for possession when the car smelled like pot. What's the big deal?"

"He made the bust…" Lassiter continued, the wheels in his head spinning furiously as he tried to remember that night. "But he didn't say anything in his initial report about the amount of drugs in the vehicle. I was there when they brought the kid in. There were at least a couple of ounces."

"If there were a couple of ounces, Lassiter, we would have charged him with Intent to Sell!" Jensen snapped impatiently. "I told you that on the phone today! And Johnson didn't have to say the amounts in his initial report, because when he booked the pot into evidence he logged it in at half an ounce! Look at the next page. It's a copy of the evidence log from that night."

"I did look at it." Lassiter returned, shoving the page in his face. "And Johnson made the bust, but he's not the one who logged the drugs into evidence. Another cop did."

"Who?" Juliet asked.

"Davis."

"Why would Davis book drugs from Johnson's bust?" Juliet wondered aloud, her brow furrowing. "They're not partners."

"And what the hell does any of this have to do with the SBPD blowing up?" Jensen added.

"I don't know…" Lassiter muttered, shutting the file. "But it's a place to start."

* * *

Shawn could feel the painkillers flowing through the IV sticking out of his arm.

They weren't working.

Not even a little bit

In fact, the pain surging from his head through his entire body was kicking the painkiller's ass.

He clenched his eyes shut, biting back the groans that wanted to escape his lips.

In the corner of the dark room, Henry was asleep in a chair. After Shawn had woken up, he had only lasted about an hour before finally succumbing to sleep.

Shawn held his breath, listening to his father's quiet, rhythmic snoring.

It was something to concentrate on besides the pain…

He exhaled slowly, trying to match his breathing to his father's.

_"I'm glad you're here…"_

The memory stuck him so suddenly it almost knocked the wind out of him.

_"I'm glad you're here…"_

He could actually hear Buzz's wheezing, gasping voice forcing the words out as he struggled to stay conscious underground. It echoed off the walls of the almost silent room, sending another searing burst of pain surging through Shawn's body.

He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, trying to count the raised, stucco bumps.

No matter how many times he told the doctor he couldn't remember anything, told his father he couldn't remember anything, he couldn't really believe the lie himself.

He couldn't convince himself he didn't remember anything.

He remembered every damn detail…

Every damn moment,

_"Are you sure Detective Lassiter won't mind…?"_

His body lurched as a cold chill shot painfully down his spine.

This time he couldn't fight it. He groaned, louder than he meant to.

Henry was instantly awake. "Shawn?" he grunted, shaking himself out of his daze and stumbling over to his son's bed. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Shawn gasped, feeling his face turning pale as he shook his head feverishly. "Nothing…"

Henry glanced at the IV. "Do you need more painkillers?"

"No. They're working. Just…Buzz…"

Henry sighed, shaking his head. "Gus is checking on him. Last I knew, he wasn't awake yet. But you know that, Shawn."

"I know…"

Henry rubbed his head sleepily, walking back to his chair and pulling his jacket over him again.

"It just should be me…" Shawn murmured into the darkness when he heard his father's snoring start up again. "I should be the one who's not waking up."


	13. Chapter 13

After an hour, Shawn still couldn't sleep.

He couldn't even think his way through the blinding pain.

All he could do was stare at the white stucco ceiling, listening to his father's breathing.

_I'm not supposed to be the one who's awake…_he kept thinking, the thoughts swirling around him, enveloping him in an impenetrable fog.

He kept fading in and out of coherence, sometimes barely aware he was alive, sometimes painfully aware of that fact.

He must have drifted off to sleep at some point, however, because suddenly his eyes were opening and his father's breathing was gone. Shawn tried to sit up, looking over at the chair in the corner where Henry had been the last time he was conscious of his presence.

But the chair was empty now, his father's jacket tossed over the back.

Shawn settled back into the pillow, closing his eyes, trying not to focus on the permeating silence.

Suddenly, he could feel someone standing over him. He opened his eyes, expecting to see his father or Gus, but he didn't. It was a woman in her late twenties. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes were wrinkled. She was looking down at him, her bloodshot eyes brimming with an expression that couldn't seem to decide between burning hatred and consuming pain.

Even if Shawn had never seen her before, he would have instantly known who she was.

"You're supposed to be a psychic, aren't you?" she asked quietly when she was sure his still glazed eyes were focusing on her. "Shouldn't you have seen it coming?"

He blinked, his brain struggling to formulate a response to the accusation.

What could he say?

He was supposed to be a psychic.

"It doesn't work like that," he mumbled lamely, the words sounding hollow and unconvincing even to him. "I don't see the future…"

"It was a damn bomb!" she hollered, her tense muscles relaxing slightly as she finally released everything she had been bottling up for hours now. "It was a goddamn _bomb_! Didn't your psychic senses pick up on _anything?_"

Shawn closed his eyes, refusing to even try to defend himself.

"Didn't they?" she demanded again, her voice rising as she strained to keep it from cracking.

Shawn opened his eyes again. "No," he croaked softly, his throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper again. "They didn't pick up on anything."

Her fingers curled around the guardrail, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "He's dying…" she whispered as she closed her eyes, finally allowing the quiet tears to come. "They keep saying they're waiting for him to wake up…but he's not. He's just not. He can't even breathe on his own."

Her fingernails dug into the metal guardrail as her eyes hardened again. "I told him not to go," she said quietly. "When you called. I told him not to leave. I told him to stay with me…but he said you were his friend. He said if you needed him, it was important. So, tell me, Psychic. What the hell was so damn important?"

Shawn shook his head slowly, trying to say he didn't remember…but he couldn't get the words out.

He couldn't lie again.

She gazed down at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Waiting to know why…

But the answer never came.

Finally, she sighed and turned away, brushing a tear from her cheek when she thought he wasn't looking. "You don't remember…" she murmured quietly. "The doctor told me you can't remember anything."

"I do remember something…" Shawn replied quietly, finally finding his voice.

She turned around again, running a trembling hand through her hair. "What?" she asked, grasping for anything to hold onto.

"He kept me alive," Shawn told her, meeting her gaze evenly. "Under the building…he wouldn't let me pass out. He wouldn't let go. He's the only reason I made it out alive."

She smiled palely, slowly releasing a hesitant, trembling breath. "People don't see it…but he's always been a hero. He just doesn't get credit."

Shawn forced a small grin, though his stomach was lurching as he watched her eyes begin to water again. "I saw it."


	14. Chapter 14

"Thanks, Gus," Juliet spoke into her phone, glancing at Lassiter in the driver's seat out of the corner of her eye. "Let me know if anything changes. And tell Francie that I'll be back later. We're following up on a lead."

She hung up and turned to Lassiter. "Shawn's awake. He doesn't remember anything before the explosion."

"What about McNab?" Lassiter asked.

Juliet didn't answer.

After five seconds of silence, she didn't have to. Lassiter knew.

"He'll pull through," she said finally, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than Lassiter.

Lassiter nodded.

"Where are we going?" she asked, changing the subject before she had to think about Buzz anymore.

"Back to the scene." Lassiter told her. "Davis got put on security detail, staving off the press while the fire crew works. If there's something going on the with the Murphy case, the only way we're going to get anything out of him is if we take him by surprise. Tonight."

They pulled up to the wreckage of the SBPD. There were still fire trucks and squad cars around, their lights bathing the scene in an eerie, somber glow. The firefighters were still working feverishly in the rubble, trying to piece everything together.

Davis was pacing the length of the yellow tape, not standing still for more than a few seconds at a time before moving on.

"He puked earlier…" Juliet murmured quietly as they watched him, the memory hitting her out of no where.

Lassiter glanced at her. "So?"

"So…I thought it was just nerves," she pressed on thoughtfully. "Everyone pukes the first time…but what if it wasn't?"

Lassiter looked slightly confused for a moment. "What--?" he started to ask, but never got to finish the thought.

"Let me talk to him. Alone." She cut him off, a look of utter determination etched across your face.

"Why you?" Lassiter demanded, surprised by the sudden resolve in her tone.

"Because I think I know what to say."

She climbed out of the car before Lassiter could object, and was already halfway across the parking lot before he finally formulated a response. "You have two minutes, O'Hara!" he growled to no one in particular, punching the steering wheel and glaring after her. "Then it's _my _turn!"

"Davis!" she called, still twenty yards away from him.

He stopped pacing and looked up at her, blinking in surprise. "Detective O'Hara! What--?"

She stopped a few feet away from him, watching his face carefully as she spoke her next sentence. "I'm working the investigation, Davis," she told him quietly. "And I need your help."

"My help?" he repeated. Juliet couldn't tell in that moment whether he actually turned a shade paler or whether it was just the headlight beams reflecting off his face.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Someone almost killed Buzz, and I want to nail them. But you have to help me."

"Is he--?" Davis started to ask, his eyes widening as he lifted his hat off his brow.

"He's not awake yet." She shook her head. "It doesn't look good."

Davis closed his eyes weakly. "Oh, God…"

"So…" she pressed on, her voice growing subtly stronger and more commanding. "You're going to help me nail whoever is responsible. Right?"

"Yeah," he agreed, opening his eyes again. "Of course. What do you need?"

"I need you to tell me about the Murphy kid."

It was a complete shot in the dark.

He was young…shaken up by the night's events…even if he did react in some way, there was no possible way she could know what it meant.

And yet, at that moment, it was all she could do.

At that moment, with Buzz and Shawn in the hospital and the one place in her life that really felt like home lying in shambles before her, she had to at least try.

Davis' mouth opened, but he clamped it shut again before he said anything.

But he _wanted_ to say something.

She could see it even in the nearly-complete darkness.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about it." She pressed on after a moment of silence, suddenly certain she was barking close to the right tree. "Because we think that case is why they were here tonight. Detective Lassiter had the Murphy file in his desk, and it looks like they were trying to get it. They must have been looking for something. If you know what—"

"I don't." Davis shook his head. "I don't know anything about it. Honestly. I remember Johnson bringing the kid in when he busted him…but that's it. It wasn't even my case."

"But you booked the drugs into evidence," she told him. "We got a copy of the file from the DA. You're name is in the log book. Why did you book evidence for a case that isn't yours?"

"I—" he stammered, looking away from her incisive eyes. "I—was just helping him out. He was busy. Why?"

"I'm just trying to figure out what Buzz and Shawn were looking for," she assured him, her voice softening. "There probably isn't a connection between the two. Right? I mean, how could there be? How could there be a connection between a drug bust and someone blowing up the SBPD?"  
David shrugged stiffly. "I don't know. I guess there can't be."

"Right," Juliet agreed. "There can't be a connection…still, it's strange."

"What is?" he asked hesitantly.

"Well…" she sighed. "Detective Lassiter insists there was at least a few ounces of pot in the kid's car when they brought him in. He saw it. But you only booked in half an ounce."

"That's all there was," Davis shrugged.

"So, you're saying Detective Lassiter is wrong?" she laughed. "I'll let you be the one to tell him that."

Davis' jaw set firmly. "Yeah. He's wrong. There was half an ounce of pot in the kid's car. That's what I booked in, that's what the log says, and that's what was in the evidence locker."

"Except, the evidence locker got blown up tonight." Juliet pointed out. "It's still an active case, which means all the drugs you booked were still in the evidence room here. Which means we'll never know for sure what was in it."

Davis stepped back, his eyes growing even wider as he stepped out of the beams of the headlights and into the shadows. "I don't know--"

Juliet took a step towards him. "Maybe there's a connection after all."


End file.
